


Paid to be Trustworthy

by ArticulateOx



Category: 2p!hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: this is my first work I have no idea what's going on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6955207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArticulateOx/pseuds/ArticulateOx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheer curtains, strung from the ceiling, tainted the light with purple and blue hues. Francis’ eyes lazily focused on the little dust fragments as they responded to his breathing, flowing throughout the room on invisible trails. His bed and this room were far too warm to leave. But the gold-leafed pillars and jeweled walls kept reminding him of his royal obligations. The silk sheets brushed against his bare chest as he heaved a sigh and admitted to himself that, at some point today, he’d have to get up and get started...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paid to be Trustworthy

Sheer curtains, strung from the ceiling, tainted the light with purple and blue hues. Francis’ eyes lazily focused on the little dust fragments as they responded to his breathing, flowing throughout the room on invisible trails. His bed and this room were far too warm to leave. But the gold-leafed pillars and jeweled walls kept reminding him of his royal obligations. The silk sheets brushed against his bare chest as he heaved a sigh and admitted to himself that, at some point today, he’d have to get up and get started.   
Francis pushed his perfumed sheets aside and swung his legs out of bed. His fair, ruffled curls fell down his shoulders and strayed across his face as he slipped his feet into the cushioned slippers. The bright red satin robe swirled around his calves, and he summoned some servants to help him dress.  
Intricately woven garments and decadent finery was selected for him as he listened to the schedule that had been planned for him. The list consisted of the standard meetings with the usual people, save for one.  
For some reason, Francis’ advisors had thought it necessary to hire a full-time bodyguard. He sighed again as half a dozen people scurried around his room, fetching his regalia and accessories, and thought of all the things the kingdom could use with the surplus money if he would be allowed to forego some of these expenses. He didn’t have the heart to fire servants, some of them were only children, but surely he didn’t need so many just for his own troubles.   
The meetings dragged by like they always did. Someone read something, and another person wrote it down, or someone else pleaded their case for some matter that wasn’t worth the attention of a cow, and could just as easily be solved by one. He only paid enough heed to be able to answer questions, or pass whatever judgment was needed.  
Finally, the only mildly interesting part of his day had arrived, and he was ‘allowed’ to meet the knight that the the Council had selected for him.  
He had decided to meet his new employee at his throne room, in all his glory. He sat up straight in his grand, ornate throne, and adjusted his various medallions and jewels. The various ornaments on his crown sparkled and clinked as he nodded to the attendant to bring the knight in. The carved oak doors swung open, and Francis studied the approaching figure.   
Their armor clanked with every labored step, and Francis raised an eyebrow. Although the knight had been told to wear their highest-quality regalia for the meeting, it was dull and had the occasional dent. Their velvet cape, and embroidered crest seemed faded and possibly threadbare in sections. The only well-kept thing about the knight was their sword. Francis could tell just by the color of the leather hilt and the shine of the pommel that it was the most refined piece of equipment the knight had. The ensemble, as a whole, lacked any sort of flash or decoration, save for a simple brown feather placed in the helmet.  
They were tall, and had a determined stride. They walked with their shoulders held back, yet slack, as if they were forced to stand, but didn’t care. Their cloak splayed out behind them as they knelt, and waited for further instructions from their new king. Francis leaned on one of the arm rests, and pursed his lips. Was this knight from another land where it wasn’t customary to remove their helmet before the king?   
He heard the mutterings of the court, and weighed the atmosphere. The lords and ladies were all anticipating the removal of the helmet as much as he was, but the knight remained frozen. Francis had to stifle a sigh, this position was most awkward for him. Should he greet the new arrival by berating them for what could be a simple mistake caused by nerves, or lose some of the court’s respect in humbling himself to ask, or remind, the knight to do this seemingly obvious task? These were the types of choices he wished the Council would make for him.  
He snapped his fingers at a waiting attendant, “Escort the knight to my chambers. I wish to speak with them alone.”  
There, now everyone could make up their own story about what happened.  
\---  
Francis lay on his side on one of the couches in the sitting area of his suite. He had abandoned his previous finery in his main room, and opted for his standard signet ring, one necklace, and his quilted doublet. A servant’s knock came from the other side of the door, and suddenly the knight opened it and strode in.  
The ‘no-nonsense’ type, apparently. Intriguing.  
Francis halted the servant’s stammering apologies, “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. Send in some wine, though. I would like to become acquainted with my new guardian.” The servant bowed and ran off to try and redeem himself with this simple task.  
The knight stood in the middle of the room, as solid as ever, and Francis walked over to them. He knew it was in both of their best interests if there was an underlying friendship, or at least some sort of trust. And he knew they had a long way to go before this was accomplished when the knight flinched as he reached up to remove their helmet.   
As soon as he was able to see the knight’s face, Francis conveniently forgot all of his arguments about this new expense.  
A dark-skinned man stared down at him, squinting in the light. His features seemed used to frowning, but the premature lines gave him an air of dignity, and strength. His rich brown hair was an odd length for a knight, and was gathered behind him in a braid. Francis could tell that he trimmed his beard with a knife, and the thought almost made him giggle. The knight’s peculiar violet eyes narrowed, and glared down at his new king in confusion and irritation, “Are you having fun?” He practically growled like an animal, and his words were clipped and informal.  
He was nothing at all like Francis expected, and Francis was loving every second of it. He suddenly realized how he had been staring at the knight, and quickly fumbled to return his helmet, and took a few steps back to his couch. He coughed and tried to compose himself, “H-honestly, could you just do away with that silly armor? It’s awfully loud.”  
He wanted the knight to be at ease, but as soon as he requested that he doff the armor, he realized how foolish the task was. Knights needed multiple squires to help them into and out of their armor, it wasn’t as simple as ‘could you just-?’   
Francis jumped as he heard metal clatter to his polished floor, and looked around in surprise. The knight’s gauntlets and breastplate were still settling on the ground and he held up his hands as if to display himself to the king, “There. Now you said you wanted to talk to me?”  
Francis sat down hard, and stared blankly at his knight. Should he start with this man’s blatant lack of respect, or deal with it another time?   
He sighed, and gestured to the chair next to him, “Have a seat.”   
The knight perched awkwardly in the cushions, as if defiantly refusing to relax.  
Francis drew his legs up next to him and rested his arm along the back of the couch, “So, Sir knight, tell me about yourself. Why should I trust you with my life?”  
The knight glared at his king yet again, as if trying to judge if he was worth the paycheck, “I am Sir Loic Dubois from the Western regions, and you can trust me because I was paid to be trustworthy.”  
Francis smirked and studied the man, “That’s a wonderful sentiment, but you’re not going to be thinking about your pay when the arrows start flying. So again, why should I trust you?” he enjoyed the change on his knight’s face, slight though it was. He could almost fancy seeing a smirk on those ever-downturned lips. But as soon as Loic spoke, Francis wilted.  
“I was under the impression that the Council had already hired me. So the way I see it, you don’t have to trust me, you just have to let me do my job, and stay alive. At least until the civil uprisings in the south have subsided enough to make my position obsolete.” He stood with some difficulty, but no permission, and began collecting his armor, “So you don’t have to pretend to be my friend either. I have a job to do, and you have a legion of servants dying to talk to you if you’re bored.”  
Francis sat up, trying to think of a rebuke or command that would halt his knight before he reached the door, but he was dumbfounded.  
“W-wait-!”  
The door was slammed shut, and Francis was left on the couch in the silence for a few, long moments. He slumped back into the cushions, and looked up at the ceiling. He suddenly began to realized just how large the room was, and just how small he felt on the couch.   
\---  
Francis sat in the throne room again. The only difference from before was Loic standing behind him.   
As a person, Francis could barely stand to be that close to someone he thought hated him. Yet, as a king, he had to stifle his nervous instincts, and continue with his business.  
Loic’s eyes shifted around the chamber looking for any threats, or suspicious characters, and marking down the routine of the meetings.   
He found his king very interesting. Loic had intentionally left his helmet on for their first meeting--it was something he always did with a new employer, just to gauge their character from their reaction. The awkward atmosphere that always ensued was always far too enjoyable. But he had to admit, Francis had handled the situation well, dealing with it privately instead of undermining either of their authorities in front of the court. Loic wasn’t willing to openly say it, but he loved these types of moral ‘cat and mouse’ games.   
He payed close attention to the king’s judgements, and how he handled the cases brought before him. Francis seemed to be soft, and impulsive, judging the cases with his gut instinct. Loic sighed, at least he wasn’t soft and lethargic. Some of Loic’s previous employers, dukes, lords, and ladies, had been unbearable. At least Francis’ gut instinct seemed just. Some of the rulers Loic had served under never seemed to grasp the concept of basic fairness.  
His eyes flicked down to the paper at Francis’ desk, curious to see what his king was taking note of on the current case. He had to desperately hide a laugh with a subtle cough. The margins of the page were filled with little caricatures of various councilmen in compromising and undignified positions. His eyes were drawn to a specific sketch. A scowling man with a rough beard and a braid, saying, “Pay me! Pay me!”  
Loic had to cough again. He was looking forward to spending more time with Francis, now.   
\---  
Later that night, Loic rushed into the room, hair loose around his shoulders, and still in his night clothes. His sword was already half-drawn and he looked around the room, “My king, is everything alright?!”  
Francis pulled his robe about himself and quickly walked over to his knight. He held up his hands, trying to calm him down, “Loic! Everything’s fine. I’m safe, I just . . . “ he swallowed, trying to figure out how to explain his train of thought. He took a step closer and placed a soft, gentle hand on Loic’s fist, which was clenched around his sword, “I just wanted . . . some company. I . . . I wanted your company.”  
Loic straightened up from his fighting stance, and looked at Francis in shock. He jerked his hand away from Francis’ and began sputtering, “Wh- Francis, I have a job to do! L-look, we both need our sleep, just go to bed!”   
Francis desperately clutched at the back of Loic’s nightshirt as he turned to go, “PLEASE?” The quaver in his voice was impossible to control, and he could feel his face starting to get hot and red, “Please, Loic?”  
Loic could hear how new Francis was to begging, it was the first time he had heard his king say ‘please’. He didn’t even bother to turn around to face his king, “If you’re that lonely, then sleep with the servant you asked to fetch me.”  
Francis’ grip tightened, “But I . . . I want you . . . I feel safer with you.”  
Loic’s back stiffened at this, and he looked back at Francis, waiting for him to elaborate. Francis didn’t have the words to even answer it to himself, so he just looked up at his knight, “Please?”   
Loic couldn’t tell if it was the simple reflection of the moon light, or if he could see real tears in Francis’ eyes. He had no idea how sincere Francis was, or how many times he may or may not have practiced this pleading expression in the mirror, but the way his slightly ruffled hair lay on his cheeks and gathered on his shoulders made him heave a sigh.   
“Alright. Fine.”   
As soon as he turned around, he felt Francis bury his face into his nightshirt, then heave a shaking, keening breath. He grumbled and pat his king’s back, unsure what else to do.  
Once Francis had calmed down, he sat on the edge of his bed and waited for his knight to join him. Loic set his sword down on the nightstand next to them.   
Loic wasn’t used to sleeping in such a big bed, with such soft sheets, let alone with anyone else. Francis wasn’t making it easy either, he was currently hugging Loic’s waist, and shifting his legs to tangle with Loic’s, hooking his knees around Loic’s calves.   
Loic had been programed to be ready for a fight, even during sleep. He was constantly asking himself, “If something were to happen, how fast could I react?” and now with Francis tangled up with him, and his sword behind him, he wasn’t sure how well he could protect Francis.   
Loic could feel Francis’ breath as Francis sighed into his chest, and he heard another sniff.   
Loic grumbled, not for the first or the last time, and pat Francis’ back, trying to think of what to say to get Francis asleep so that this night could be over as soon as possible.   
Francis wanted this moment to last forever, though. Loic smelled like iron and sweat, and the forests outside the castle, and Francis was surprised at how warm he was. He had no idea why, but the feel of Loic’s nightshirt on his cheeks, coupled with his scent, put Francis at ease. It was the safest he had felt in a long time. He turned his head to the side, and whispered to his knight, “Loic, did you ask to guard me, or did the Council choose you?”  
“Just go to sleep, Francis.” Loic was not in the mood for these infantile nighttime chats.  
“Please just answer the question. You know I’m not going to be able to sleep until you do.”  
Loic didn’t bother hiding his exasperation, “The Council approached me. They just needed an impartial party who wasn’t involved in the civil uprisings. Now will you go to bed?”  
“Now that you know me, would you have asked?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Do you like protecting me?”  
Francis hadn’t expected an immediate answer, but Loic was taking longer to think it over than he had thought.  
No one really asked knights if they liked their job, and Loic had rarely been given the chance to pick and choose, so he had been blindsided. His own answer surprised him, “I think so. You’re a much better ruler than most of the others I’ve dealt with.” Loic didn’t move, but he felt Francis’ head shift to look up at him, “Now will you just go to sleep, already?”  
“W-wait, what do you mean-”  
“Shut up, and go to sleep.”  
Francis wasn’t used to being ‘shut up’ but he was too confused to quibble about it. Eventually his mind got tired of trying to understand his knight, and he fell asleep.  
Loic could feel Francis’ breath change, and felt his leg give the occasional twitch as if he was dreaming. He looked down, and saw his king’s serene expression. Francis’ hair fell across his face, and lay on the pillow behind him, and Loic could almost pick out his perfumed scent from that of the sheets.   
Loic suddenly realized that his thumb was unconsciously stroking along Francis’ shoulder. Would Francis wake up if he stopped? He wasn’t sure if this was the reason he was continuing, or if it was some other, selfish alternative. It was such a frivolous and idiotic action, but it felt so intimate to Loic, and he couldn’t explain why.  
\---  
“No.”  
“But why not? It’s not like the Council needs me, and we could both use some relaxation!”  
“No.”  
“Loic, listen, whether you’re coming or not, I’m going and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Francis’ hands were balled into fists, and he knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but Loic was being so difficult right now.  
“Or,” Francis crossed his arms and prepared himself for another one of Loic’s idiotic excuses, “I could simply lock you in your room, and claim that I’m trying to protect you from yourself. The only problem would be that you’d probably get de-throned, but I don’t have to worry about that, because I’ll simply protect whoever came next.”  
Francis inhaled sharply and opened his mouth, but the argument seemed to stick in his throat, and never made its way to his tongue. He didn’t like the thought of being locked in his room, let alone someone else running his kingdom (although, that was practically the case already).  
He started speaking again, “Listen! I am the king, I can use whatever excuse I want, but the fact is that I am going camping, with or without you!”  
\---  
Loic felt that familiar, and irritating feeling between his shoulder blades, underneath his cloak. Like someone was brushing a pelt the wrong way, or walking too slow in front of him. An awkward mix of impatience and fury that always manifested itself in scowls.   
Francis, however, was completely relaxed. He seemed to be in his element as they rode down the forest path, their packs bouncing on their horses. He was smiling, and marveling at the forest like he’d never seen it before. Loic had to suppress yet another growl as Francis leaned in his saddle to try catching a passing bloom from a vine.   
“Loic, look at how purple this flower is!”  
Francis was acting like a child, and the stubborn part of Loic that was still sore from losing the argument about the camping trip wanted to hate him for it. And yet the innocent, and excited look in Francis’ eyes made Loic feel guilty. His king was so proud of his flower, and all Loic did in return was glance his way, and grunt.  
Loic kept his eyes roaming around the forest, and tried to ignore the slight weakening in his anger that the guilt had caused. A few moments of silence went by and he glanced back over at Francis, trying to make sure he hadn’t hurt Francis’ feelings too much.   
Francis was still smiling, and now his fair hair was held behind his ear with the bright, purple bud.   
Francis kept his face forward as he sensed Loic’s gaze on him, but it was very hard when he thought he heard a chuckle from his knight.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to Rosie! Thanks for helping me edit!  
> Stay posted, more chapters to follow.


End file.
